


A Friendly Face

by audiaphilios



Series: From Tumblr With Lo-- [38]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, job interview
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audiaphilios/pseuds/audiaphilios
Summary: No full name, no gendered pronouns, the only reference to appearance was in response to a comment Larissa had made about cutting her hair since the photo in her online portfolio—“If we had to have a certain haircut for this job, I wouldn’t be here either.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> During my open prompts, [nonuniqueindie](http://nonuniqueindie.tumblr.com/) hit me with:  
> waved back at someone who wasn't waving at you in the first place, shitty/lardo
> 
> [Originally posted to tumblr October 16, 2016.](http://audiaphilios.tumblr.com/post/151861040675/waved-back-at-someone-who-wasnt-waving-at-you-in)

Larissa double-checks her reflection in a window before she turns the corner onto the restaurant’s street. Her eyeliner’s on point, her portfolio bag is sharp, and her style says _artistic but professional_. She’s a bit nervous about a lunch interview, how the hell is anyone supposed to form a good impression while chewing? Maybe she should order soup, or is slurping worse? She’d be more likely to spill soup all down here front, but does she really want to be the type of woman who orders salad? Does this place serve anything that can be ingested via straw?

She takes a deep breath, because she cannot afford to lose her chill. She turns the corner, keeping an eye out for B. No full name, no gendered pronouns, the only reference to appearance was in response to a comment Larissa had made about cutting her hair since the photo in her online portfolio—“If we had to have a certain haircut for this job, I wouldn’t be here either.”

So when the long-haired, hella-moustachioed dude in front of the restaurant flags her down, she breathes a sigh of relief that he recognized her, and doesn’t seem disappointed somehow. She squares her shoulders, because she’s strong enough to handle this, and approaches him with her hand extended.

“Hey, B. Just wanted to let you know I’m real excited about this project, I’ve got some great ideas about how we can fill the space and make use of the natural lighting, and I’m looking forward to working with you.”

The guy takes her hand, smiling enthusiastically, and she’s only caught a little off-guard when he says, “Totally, brah. Tell me more!” She tips her head towards the restaurant, and he holds the door open for her. She quirks an eyebrow at him, unimpressed, but he shrugs and says, “Knight.”

“What?”

“That’s my last name, Knight.”

Larissa stops short, and he runs into her. She spins to him.

“It’s not Anderson?”

“Uh, no?”

“So if you’re not B. Anderson—“

“Miss Duan?”

A tall woman with a half-shaved head of greying hair is standing up from a table just inside the door, against the window.

Larissa tries not to panic, and ends up hissing through her teeth.

“Who the fuck are you, guy?”

“B. Knight, but you can call me Shitty.”

“Damn straight I’ll call you shitty, why the fuck were you going to let me—why were you even talking to me?”

The guy shrugs. “I’m actually just collecting signatures, but your pitch sounded more interesting.”

Larissa’s furious, and embarrassed, and turns to Ms. Anderson with a sharp grin.

“Be right with you,” she says calmly before turning back to Knight. “Oh my god, _leave!_ ”

He does, and she can’t say it’s a bad thing to watch—he’s got a very inspiring figure—but she snaps back into her business mindset and apologizes to her intended rendezvous, explaining the situation. She’s expended all her nerves on that little interlude, and the mix-up breaks the ice pretty successfully.

She’s feeling pretty good by the end of the meeting, honestly, so when she leaves the restaurant, she’s glad to see the long-haired dude still standing around smiling at the passerby.

“Alright,” she says as she approaches, “I figure I owe you at least a chance to do your spiel.” His eyes light up, and they really are an incredible shade of green.

Her fingers itch for her paints as he talks animatedly, and she’s embarrassed later to realize she doesn’t remember a thing he said. She did get him to agree to pose for her, however, so she figures she can always ask him tomorrow.


End file.
